


Blood in the Snow

by Jedi_MI



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Betrayal, Canon Compliant, Character Death, I Tried, Kingsglaive - Freeform, Not Beta Read, Spies & Secret Agents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-20
Updated: 2018-01-20
Packaged: 2019-03-07 09:00:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13431372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jedi_MI/pseuds/Jedi_MI
Summary: A year before the events of “Kingsglaive,” a small team of Lucians is sent on a mission to infiltrate a decommissioned Niflheim testing facility in hopes of discovering something to help turn the tide of war.  They are betrayed.





	Blood in the Snow

**Author's Note:**

> So this is the first fic I've written in probably over ten years, and the first I've EVER shared with anyone, but I'm putting on my big girl panties and sharing this... be gentle!

Team members:

Nike Palitine, Marchioness - spy  
Agent Collis Deckner - spy  
Dr. Alenium Mazza - former protégé of Verstael Besithia  
Cyprian Mataro - tech officer  
Glaive Sprau Verma - Kingsglaive  
Glaive Kander Sterling - Kingsglaive

***************************************************************************************************

 

Lord Shield Clarus Amicitia stepped into the war room, stifling a yawn as he did. Despite the early hour King Regis was already seated in a chair before the bank of screens, looking calm and regal as he glanced back at Clarus. He had insisted the king didn’t need to be present for this operation, by all accounts the research facility the team was to recon was abandoned some time ago. Regis had been adamant, however, that they were sending these young men and women into enemy territory for Insomnia and the least he could do, as king, was to be there, however remotely, for the mission.

Six young men and women, some of Insomnia’s finest. Two spies with knowledge of Niflheim geography, customs and language, both had proven themselves in past missions to enemy territory. One scientist, a researcher under Besithia before she defected to Insomnia, eager to prove her loyalty. Their tech expert and radio man who had custom-made the entire team’s video equipment, able to (hopefully, thought Clarus) transmit in real-time all the way back to the monitors before them once activated. The tech had assured them they’d have at least two hours of direct video, more for audio, but Clarus remained skeptical. Rounding out the team were two Kingsglaive, selected for their lighter complexions and ability to blend in with the natives, at least from afar. 

Looking around the room he spied Cor standing next to their radio tech, Vonte, both seeming to wait for the radio to chirp to life indicating the team had reached the last waypoint before approaching the facility. There were several advisors in the room, those that served on the security council and had helped plan this mission, speaking softly together on the other side of Cor. On the opposite side of the room, looking over various maps spread out on a table and occasionally glancing up at the clock above the monitors, was the prince’s advisor and their chief strategist for the mission, Ignis Scientia. Clarus knew Ignis had spent nearly every waking moment when he wasn’t looking after the prince going over the mission plans, everything they knew about the facility, and fine-tuning every aspect of the mission. Gladio had mentioned to his father more then once that Ignis was working himself into an early grave, but Clarus really couldn’t fault the kid, he knew he had a vested interest in seeing the team come back quickly and safely. 

All signs pointed to an easy mission, even so it was important. They hoped to find anything left behind that might lend credibility to the horrendous reports of inhuman experiments; evidence of Niflheim’s atrocities committed against its own citizens. With enough proof the hope was that they could bring Accordo into an alliance directly against Niflheim.

The radio besides Vonte crackled to life and all eyes turned to it. 

“Base, we’ve reached waypoint gamma,” tech officer Mataro’s low voice came over the speakers. They had selected this point as the team’s final check in before approaching the facility. It was in a remote area of Northern Niflheim, banked on two sides but low mountains. It seemed like an ideal place for the team to prepare for the final approach to what is believed to be a now-decommissioned human testing facility, which lay on the other side of the snowy ridge. 

“Copy that,” replied Vonte. “All mics up.”

Clarus heard the order repeated over the radio as the microphones given to the team members began hissing to life over the speakers as each person confirmed mics on.

“You hearing everyone?” Came Mataro’s voice. Vonte confirmed all six mics were clear and the group began their descent to the south side of the mountain and the waiting facility.

*************************************************************************************

 

Everyone, save Scientia who was still pacing before the table of maps, had opted to sit at least 20 minutes ago, the sound of the group in Niflheim’s footsteps through the snow, and occasional banter, doing little to distract from the early hour. So far, everything had been going to plan and it was unlikely that much would change, not with the mission plan they’d come up with and solid intel received. 

“When this is over I’m going to spend at least a full ten hours lounging in a hot tub,” came the deep voice of Glaive Verma over the speaker. “You’re welcome to join me doctor.”

“That’s a hard pass from me,” came a curt reply in Mazza’s heavy-accented voice.

“How ‘bout you Lady N?”

A heavy sigh “I told you not to call me that.”

“Sprau, less flirting, this is a mission, not a night out,” Glaive Sterling’s voice cut through the speakers. “Besides, I doubt either of these ladies are that desperate.”

“Ass,” came Verna’s reply.

“Fuck, Nike, you seeing this?” 

“Yeah, I see it Col. Looks like fresh tire tracks going through the gate. Let’s get a closer look, see what we’re dealing with.” 

Regis spoke up from his place seated in the center of the room “Vonte, can we get video up?”

“Certainly, sire,” came the response. “Command to alpha team, orders for video on.”

“Affirmative sir,” replied Mataro as one of the monitors blinked to life in the war room, the video feed from his recorder successfully connecting. “Video on everyone.”

Slowly the other five monitors came on, each displaying the view of a team member and their name underneath. It appeared that Agent Deckner, Col, was indeed in lead position, his monitor showing an expanse of white leading down to a small roadway with tire tracks showing through a dusting of snow. From the monitors it looked like Lady Nike was close behind him, her white snowsuit doing a good job of camouflaging her small frame, bright red hair mostly hidden under a white cap. Clarus turned his attention back to Mataro’s monitor, he was trailing slightly behind the others and would be in a better position to see how all six were situated. 

Yes, good, thought Clarus as he took in the team’s positions. Glaive Sprau’s bulk was easy to identify in between Nike’s petite form and the doctor’s taller frame. Dr. Mazza was wearing the same white snowsuit as the rest of them but, like the glaive, had forgone the cap, allowing her short, white-blond hair to fall around her shoulders. Glaive Sterling stood quietly a little behind Dr. Mazza, his head constantly moving as he continually scanned the area for any potential threats as the two spies discussed the tracks ahead and the best way forward. His pale blue eyes occasional flicking back to Mataro and hands lightly resting on the kukris strapped to his upper thigh.

After a few minutes he saw the two spies stand and turn to the rest of the group.

“Ok, we’re going down towards the North side, we should have more cover. We’ll figure out the next step once we’re closer,” Lady Nike announced.

The team was quiet save for the sound of breathing and crunch of snow beneath their feet. The command center remained quietly attentive as well, all focus now on the six monitors before them. 

It was about 40 minutes later when the group finally stopped, the faded white of the main research building spread out before them.

“Something doesn’t feel right,” Nike whispered, Clarus wasn’t sure if it was to herself or one of the team.

“There, boot tracks around that side building, they look fresh, too.” Clarus could practically hear the frown in Glaive Sprau’s voice. 

Agent Deckner’s feed slowly creeped forward, hugging the side of the building. Most of the feed was blocked as he appeared to peer around the corner. “Shit,” he hissed and the video spun, Col hurrying back to the rest of the team. “This facility is up and running, and least appears to be. I saw at least a dozen MTs, they didn’t seem powered up but....”

“Mataro, call it in, confirm our orders,” Glaive Sterling commanded.

“Yessir.” Mataro’s video showed him moving further away from the facility. The main radio hissed to life “Command, instruction?”

Nearly all eyes in the room turned to Regis, the king rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “Instruct them to fall back, we will not allow them to go into this blind.”

“Yes your majesty,” Vonte replied. Then, into the radio “fallback and regroup. Prepare for possible extraction.”

“Roger that base,” Mataro responded. He looked up at Sterling. “Our orders are to proceed into the facility.” Sterling gave him a curt nod and returned to the rest of the group to prepare.

“What the hell?!” Yelled Cor, grabbing the headset from Vonte. “This is Marshall Leonis, your orders are to retreat to the extraction point. This comes from the king himself.”

“Your king, maybe,” Mataro’s voice creaked over the radio. The room stood in rapt attention as Mataro’s feed showed him flicking a knife through the cord of the team’s only radio and throwing the pieces back into the snow. Slowly he approached the back of Sterling and his feed showed a flash of movement as he buried the knife to the hilt in his back.

Then all hell broke loose.

*************************************************

Quiet pandemonium was the best way Clarus could describe the war room. Most of the security council members stared in silent shock at the video feeds, trying to discern what was happening in the chaos of battle through each monitor. Cor was shouting out orders which Vonte jumped to obey, searching for any friendly force nearby that could provide assistance; summoning Commander Drautos, head of the Kingsglaive, for additional support. Glaive Sprau’s deep voice shouting the order to retreat over the speaker.

The sound of Cor’s voice did little to cut through the clash of battle playing over the speakers. Heavy breathing. A flash of an MT arm on one of the monitors, the sounds of gunfire, a pained grunt as the view from another monitor spun towards the ground. It was impossible to keep track of who was where and what was happening. 

“Ignis,” he heard Regis say gently beside him. He spared a glance, the king was standing now, a hand on young Scientia’s shoulder. Ignis didn’t seem to notice, gaze fixed on the monitors, hands clenched in fists at his side. “Son, maybe you should leave.”

“No” was the soft reply.

Clarus bought his attention quickly back to the monitors, trying to tune out all audio and focus on the images to discern what was happening. Glaive Sterling was still down, his feed a jumble of white-clad legs doing their best to dodge the innumerable metal MT ones, the blue-white pop of warping every few seconds confirming that Glaive Sprau was still in the fight. In the corner of the static feed he could just make out a smaller figure in the snow laying on their side, a pool of red growing on their back and trailing down into the snow. Too small to be the traitor Mataro he quickly scanned the others trying to confirm who else was down. 

Sure enough Sprau’s feed was a confusion of movement as he warped around the MTs, doing a serviceable job of destroying as many as he could as fast as possible from what the shield could tell. Lady Nike’s video was much harder to make out, something red, probably blood, partially covering the camera; though she, too, was moving, the crackle of a thundara bolt bursting to life in front of the camera as she sent it flying towards an approaching MT. Agent Deckner and Mataro seemed to be facing off, Col’s feed showing he had Mataro trapped, his back against the building, the agent’s deadly daggers raised offensively and ready to strike. That just left Dr. Mazzo. He turned slightly to focus on her monitor and, sure enough, it appeared that she wasn’t moving, the screen showing nothing but snow. “Damn,” Clarus hissed.

He brought his attention back to Deckner’s feed just in time to see the agent move again Mataro, the traitor bringing his knife up to defend himself while Deckner went low and to the side, his dagger flashing across the screen and finding its mark in Mataro’s side, a slash of red appearing across his white coat. Clarus heard Mataro’s pained shout above the rest of the noise. Good, he thought as Mataro fell to the ground, Deckner on top of him. He knew it would be best if they could take Mataro alive so they could seek information but it was hard to think logically with the shock of betrayal. He had his doubts that the agent would be able, or willing, to stay his hand. 

Agent Deckner brought his arm down, hard, across Mataro’s chest, causing another shout of pain and, a second later, Mataro’s video feed cut off, following by the other five.

“Bring those feeds back up,” Scientia’s clipped voice demanded. Clarus had nearly forgotten the young man was still in the room. He glanced over to the advisor who had left his place by the map table and was now beside Cor and Vonte, his face an impassive mask.  
“Can’t sir, the issues on their end, not ours.”

“What the hell is going on?” Clarus turned to the new voice in the room, Commander Dratus. When the hell did he get here? Regis brought his hand up in a command for silence as the room seemed to freeze, all ears straining to make sense of the grunts, the sounds of clashing weapons, and harsh breaths coming from the speakers. 

Finally, finally, the sounds of battle gave way to panting breaths, but Clarus found it impossible to tell who, or even how many, of the team was left. From his last look before the video feeds cut out it looked like Sterling, Mazza and Mataro were all down, but no clue on the extent of injuries or if anyone else was hurt. Three down, at least half the team. He knew most of them, if not personally then by reputation. Sterling and Sprau were highly-regarded members of the Kingsglaive, young men who had come to Insomnia when their homes had fallen under Imperial rule and served well. Mazza, Clarus was ashamed to admit, he had not trusted 100%. She had spent her 20s working under Niflheim’s infamous Verstael Besthsia before defecting to Lucius, saying she could no longer stomach the atrocities her fellow scientists committed. Clarus had had his doubts.

The two spies, however, he did know personally. He had trained Agent Deckner in the crownsguard before he had been transferred over to intelligence. He had a quick mind and was deadly with nearly any weapon. He would had made a wonderful member of the guard but even Clarus could admit it would have been a waste of his talents, the information Deckner had been able to bring back on his various missions into Niflheim were invaluable. 

Clarus has known Lady Nike’s grandfather, the last remaining Marquis in Insomnia, all his life. He can still recall the uproar in the citadel nearly 30 years ago when the man had appeared before the king to formally strip his son’s title and inheritance, all for marrying a woman he deemed beneath their station, an immigrant from Niflheim. Clarus had been more than a little surprised when the old man had introduced his only granddaughter and heir to society three years ago. Since then she had become friends with his son, Gladio, and was no stranger to the Amicitia Manor.

Mataro, unlike the others, had been born and raised in the crown city. He had been recruited directly from high school to work for the crown, a technical prodigy who had designed long range sensors and various other tech used by the Kingsglaive. As far as Clarus could remember, the young man has no family outside the city, no ties to Niflheim. His betrayal was shocking.

Damn, someone say something he silently begged. It was another few minutes before the astrals would answer his prayer. It was Agent Deckner. “Those bastards got Sprau.”

“Al, too,” Lady Nike’s tired voice came through. “We need to find Sterling.” Another few moments of silence as the two spies appeared to survey the area.

Deckner’s voice broke the silence. “Shit, Sterling’s bad, who had the med kit?”

A beat “Mataro, I’ll check him.” Footsteps, a hiss of pain. Nike’s injured, too, thinks Clarus, they probably all are. “Here, got it, it’s not much.”

“Anything we can use”

“A potion, some gauze”

“Damn, hope it’s enough to get him to the evac site.”

A sigh.

“I know that look, what is it?”

“What are the chances that there’s another ambush waiting for us at the evac site?”

“Pretty fucking good I’d say. So what do we do, start walking north and hope we find our way to what, Tenebrea? Sterling will bleed out well before then.”

“Find a new evac site and hope someone back home can still hear us?”

“You mean someone who isn’t a traitorous asshole?”

“Ideally, yes. Got a better idea?”

“No. From what I remember there’s a clearing about seven miles northeast of here, on the other side of the ridge we followed down. We should head there.” A flurry of movement caught his attention, Scientia grabbing a map and practically running back to Vonte, Clarus was sure the young tactician already had a new extraction plan.

A grunt of pain, Sterling’s, Clarus guesses. He’s a good man, good soldier, he thinks. It’s maddening not being able to see what’s going on.

The sound of labored breathing, an occasional moan of pain, was all that could be heard for several minutes. Finally, Col’s voice cut through the near silence.

“Ok Nik, you’re up.”

“I’m fine,” the reply came. Clarus frowned, her voice sounded much weaker then minutes previous. The adrenaline probably leaving her system.

“You’re no help to either of us if you pass out from blood loss, too. Let me at least wrap your arm, anything else can probably wait,” Col insisted.

“Fine, but hurry. We need to get moving before” a hiss of pain interrupts her.

“Sorry, sorry. That’s gonna have to do. Let’s head to that ridge and pray to the six someone back home is coming for us.”

More infuriating silence, thought Clarus as the three began their long trek to the new evacuation site, heavy breathing the only sounds now coming through the speakers. The war room, however, was a flurry of sound as Scientia and Vonte briefed the evac team over the radio while the council members began arguing amongst themselves, pointing fingers and trying to place blame for the huge mess the mission had become. Clarus had little patience for that nonsense at the moment.

“Clarus,” Regis finally spoke, gesturing for him to join his old friend. Clarus made his way over to his king. “We need to find out everything we can about Mataro. I fear the betrayal may run deeper than we know.”

“Of course sire. I will personally lead the investigation.”

“Thank you old friend.” King Regis turned his attention to the monitors, screens now black. There he sat, Clarus by his side, for the next four hours. As, one by one, they lost the audio feeds from the field team. As the council members began retreating back to their homes, most still arguing as they left. As Dratus left to return to kingsglaive headquarters with a swear and slam of the door. Regis refused to leave until the remaining team members were safe, schedule and sleep be damned. Scientia spent most of the time either on the radio with Vonte and the extraction team or pacing the length of the room, his obvious nervousness enough for Clarus to almost force him from the room, almost.

After nearly three hours of complete silence from the team the radio chirped, all eyes on the room immediately went to Vonte. “Base, this is evac team one. We have a clean evac of three.”

Regis was the first to speak “I want a status on all three and tell them to fly straight through to King’s Hospital, we’ll have a team ready for them.”

Vonte repeated the request to the evac team, Clarus only a little surprised by the response. “We have a seriously injured glaive who needs immediate medical attention. We will drop him at the hospital in Lestallum before continuing on. I’d rather not risk his life trying to get him to Crown City. The other two have no life-threatening injuries, though Lady Nike took a bullet to the shoulder and will probably need surgery. We’ve got a medic stitching her other injuries up now. Agent Deckner’s gonna need some stitches too, possible broken wrist.” 

“Confirmed evac one, get here as soon as you can. I’ll call ahead to Lestallum and have them prepared for your arrival.”

Regis looked back at Clarus and whispered “find out how this happened. Keep the investigation quiet, inform only me of your findings.”

Clarus, fist to heart, bowed. “On my word, your majesty.”


End file.
